


The Magical Delights of Riverdale, New York

by hvrcules



Series: How To Save The World And Finish Your Trigonometry Homework [1]
Category: Archie Comics, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: American Gods meets Lord of the Rings meets Twin Peaks meets High School Musical, Banshees, Brazilian Mythology, Chinese Mythology - Freeform, Empousa, F/F, F/M, Fairies, Giants, Greek Mythology - Freeform, I LOVE MAGICAL AUS, Irish Mythology - Freeform, M/M, Magic, Multi, Supernatural - Freeform, Vampires, Werewolves, Witches, fae, hell yeah, panthers, this boutta be so lit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 14:53:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11210373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hvrcules/pseuds/hvrcules
Summary: Archie, Betty, Veronica, and Jughead are just four normal high school students, juggling the pressure of maintaining a college-acceptable GPA, an active and well-connected social life, attempting 8 hours of sleep per night, and, oh yeah, being the prophesied saviors of the entire world.  And when Jason Blossom turns up dead?  That’s the least of their worries.





	The Magical Delights of Riverdale, New York

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment guessing which character is which supernatural, or just with anything you'd like to tell me! Filha is Portuguese for daughter, because in the show Hermione Lodge uses "mija", or spanish for daughter, to refer to Veronica, and I decided to make the entire Lodge family Brazilian instead of just Hispanic because Cami is Brazilian. Also, Xango is the Macumba (Brazilian witchcraft) orixa, or deity, of Justice and resistance.

_ Our story is about a town, a small town, and the people who live in the town.  From a distance, it presents itself like so many other small towns all over the world.  Safe.  Decent.  Innocent. _

_ Get closer, though, and you start seeing the shadows underneath. _

_ The name of our town is Riverdale. _

 

_ And our story begins, I guess, with what the Blossom twins did this summer.  On the Fourth of July, just after dawn, Jason and Cheryl Blossom drove out to Sweetwater River for an early morning boat ride. _

_ The next thing we know happened for sure is that Dilton Doiley, who was leading Riverdale’s Boy Scout Troop on a bird watching expedition, came upon Cheryl, and only Cheryl, by the river’s edge, wailing. _

_ Riverdale Police dragged Sweetwater River for Jason’s body, but never found it.   _ _ So a week later, the Blossom family buried an empty casket, and Jason’s death was ruled an accident, as the story that Cheryl told made the rounds. _

_ That Cheryl dropped a glove in the water, and Jason reached down to get it, and accidentally tipped the boat, and panicked, and drowned. _

_ As for us, we were still talking about the “July Fourth tragedy”, on the last day of summer vacation, when a new mystery rolled into town. _  - Jughead Jones.

* * *

 

Veronica Lodge leaned forward against the seatbelt of the limousine, catching her mother’s attention across from her.  “Mom, tell me again why we’re moving here?”  It was the first thing she’d spoken since a Ritz-Carlton bellman loaded up their Louis Vuitton luggage into the trunk of the car.

Her mother stared at her for a moment, her dark eyes unsettlingly focused on Veronica’s face, as if searching for something.

“It’s not safe in New York anymore, filha.  Not for us.  Your father…”

Veronica nearly exploded with indignation.  “We should be by his side, we should’ve stopped that farce of a trial before it even happened, instead of hiding our faces in some small town in the middle of nowhere, Rockland County.”  Her voice broke.  “Mom, they took everything from us, and we didn’t do anything to stop them.”

“Veronica.”  Her mother’s voice was laden with power, enough that she could taste it crackling across her tongue, enough for Veronica to take the hint and shut up.  Cheeks red with fury, she turned her head and glared out the window at the passing trees through the evening darkness.

Her mom tried again, her tone soft with sympathy.  “Filha…”  Veronica snapped her eyes back to Hermione’s face.  For the first time, she saw the lines and sorrow, etched into her mother’s perfect, glowing face, the burden and the responsibilities weighing down on her like a millstone around Hermione’s neck.   “You’re right.  We didn’t do anything.  We couldn’t do anything.  If we had…  they would’ve taken us away too.  You know that, Veronica.  You know what happens to people like us.  People with our power.  And if we’d used it?  That’s what they want; for us to reveal ourselves to them.  Thank Xango they went after your father, not us..  He’s mortal; not only that, he’s innocent.  They can’t hurt him without breaking their own rules.”

Veronica felt unbidden tears well up in her eyes at Hermione’s words.  “But why Riverdale?  Why not Rio?  Paris?  Anywhere else in the world?”

 “Riverdale… Riverdale is a safe place, for people, for beings like us.  There is something about the land; it shields us from the same kinds of people who locked away your father, who hunted our fellow witches down and burned them at the stake. People like that can’t even enter the town borders.  We would be the next victims, if we’d stayed in New York, or gone anywhere else.  This is the closest safe haven; they cannot touch us here.”

Her dark purple manicured nails pulled themselves from Veronica’s palms, where they had been entrenched for the entire conversation.

“And Daddy?”

“He’ll join us, Ronnie, I promise.  As soon as he’s out of Montreal, we’ve made arrangements to bring him here.”

Silence filled the space between the two women for a moment.

 

“Promise me, Mother.  Promise me he’s coming back.”  They held each other’s gaze for a moment, and a whisper of magic passed between mother and daughter.

“I promise.”

The car took them through what must have been the main street of Riverdale, past little shops and businesses that shuttered at 7:30 PM without fail, typical of a small, quaint, forest town.  Veronica couldn’t help but remember, with a pang of longing, the street of vendors lining Central Park that kept their doors open long after midnight, brightly colored lights and the latest pop hits blaring from speakers to draw in the crowds that never went home in the city that never slept.

She rolled down the window, a cool, fresh mountain breeze ruffling the hair she’d spent hours setting into picture perfect curls.

As the driver navigated to the smooth curb outside of the building her mother had given him the address to, Veronica considered the place she would now have to call home; faux columns, wrought ironwork adding an imposing gothic touch, to be honest quaint, in comparison to the places she had known before.

The chauffeur eased the private car to a gentle stop.  “We’re here Ms. Hermione.”  Veronica neatly exited the car, still taking in the non-existent nightlife of the town around her.

The lobby of the Pembrooke was small, as she’d suspected from the beginning, but decorated tastefully, bouquets of fresh flowers and luxurious couches garnishing a smooth marble floor.  Veronica had a sneaking suspicion the flowers did plenty more than look beautiful; her mother had always done that trick back at the Dakota, arranging protective herbs and charms in the vases.  An old, well dressed man came forward to greet them.  He clasped her mother’s hand with great affection borne of familiarity.

“Ms. Hermione, welcome home!”

“Smithers!”  The butler and Hermione exchanged pleasantries, and Veronica was bored enough to entertain herself with sending colored sparks flying from her smooth fingertips, one hand to the other, her handbag shifted in the crook of one elbow as the magic danced and played along her fingers.

Smithers was halfway to the door to get their luggage when he paused and turned back around.  “Ah, Ms. Hermione, would you like some menus, ma’am, so you can order in?”

“Oh no, I have been craving one of Pop Tate’s cheeseburgers since noon.  Is his Chock’lit Shoppe still open?  Veronica, would you mind terribly picking something up for us?”

She snapped to attention at the sound of her name, swiftly killing the sparks with a fisting motion of her hand.  “What is a Chock’lit Shoppe, and why does it sell burgers?”

Hermione laughed.

* * *

 

“You ready for tonight, Betts?”  Kevin smirked as he spoke, wiggling his bushy-yet-well-groomed brows at Betty.  She flushed pinker than her drugstore blush at the insinuation.

“Don’t do that, Kev.  That’s gross.  We’re not like that-”

“You mean you aren’t like that.  Well, newsflash Betty Cooper, have you seen Archie?”  He pointed out the window, and she saw a flash of coppery hair disappear under the top of a worn-in, soft gray t-shirt, followed by a good 3 seconds of an excellent ab shot.  Betty could count 6 distinct packs covered in smooth, freckled tanned skin.

“Oh my god!”

Kevin nodded enthusiastically.  “I know right?  You may not be into that now,” he paused to wiggle his eyebrows again, “but do you see that?  Archie got hot!  There isn’t anyone in this town that wouldn’t be into that.  You like him, he likes you, it’s simple as that.”

“We’ll see how it goes tonight, alright?”  Betty slipped her blouse over her ponytail, her voice muffling through the fabric.  “Besides, if he does actually like me, how come he hasn’t done anything about it?  Archie’s not exactly the subtle type.”

Kevin rolled his eyes at her from across the room.  “C’mon, you guys are total endgame.  There’s no reason why he wouldn’t like you.  You just gotta, you know, take control.  Tell him what he likes.  Aren’t you werewolf-types good at that?  Alpha, Beta, all that.”

“I’m just going to pretend like I didn’t hear you completely, and I bet purposefully, misrepresent the most important relationships in my species in order to fulfill some preconceived kinked-out dominance fantasy-”

“Don’t knock it till you try it, Betty.”

* * *

Veronica swiftly draped her cashmere Helmut Lang cape over her shoulders, pulling the hood up over her head.  If what her mother had said was true, that Riverdale was a town filled with supernaturals like the Lodge family, then she saw no issue with finally being able to dress like the witch she was.  Besides, the first impression was everything, and Veronica had no shame in admitting how the cape satisfied her inner penchant for dramatic entrances (and exits).

After carefully adjusting her pearls so they centered perfectly on her throat, and drew attention to her defined collarbones, she’d nearly made it out the door, carefully written instructions to “Pop’s Chock’lit Shoppe” in hand, before her mother stopped her.

Hermione had just raised an eyebrow at the swirling black fabric enveloping her daughter, murmuring that she’d “certainly make an impression, if that’s what you wanted.”  

She’d just quirked her crimson painted lips in a half-smile, and agreed, striding out the door in her 2 inch Aquazzura heels.

As Veronica passed through the lobby of the Pembrooke, she felt the familiar sense of disorientation that came with being recognized by protection wards for the first time.  Her mother must have put them up while she was unpacking.  Veronica waved her hand, sending magic back to the ward to confirm her identity, and headed out into the chilly New York night.

There was something picturesque about Riverdale, she thought to herself as she wandered the small abandoned sidewalks.  It reminded her of all those murder-mystery tv shows set in small countryside towns, Twin Peaks vibes with the charm of Parks and Recreation.  Probably something to do with all the mist that came down from the mountains, obscuring dark alleyways and blurring out the old street lights that had flickered on when the sun set with half-hearted enthusiasm.

Veronica could see the charm about living in a little place like this.

Her mother was right; there was something about this town that made it different from a typical podunk countryside community.  She decided she’d judged it too fiercely; the magic that gathered in the mist and danced along the breeze was too strong to be a coincidence, or the work of some rather talented witch.  Veronica could even feel the movement of energy in the earth itself, her Chanel Vamp painted toes curling in on themselves from the power that emanated from the town.

 

Perhaps she would like it here.

 

Pop’s Chock’lit Shoppe, lit up in teal and pink neon, rose out from the ever-mist like some kind of ancient monument to a long-dead god, and Veronica nearly giggled at the stereotypical 1950’s chrome fixtures.  It reminded her of something out of an old comic, perhaps something her maid might flip through while in line at the supermarket with the Lodge family groceries.

She grasped the aluminum door handle and confidently strode inside. 

Something forced her to turn her head towards the patrons of the diner.

Veronica had felt it as soon as she’d walked in; magic, ancient magic, old and alien, something out of legend and myth,

It was a boy, his wavy hair a fiery red halo around his head, brown eyes dark and full of potential.  He was looking at her, too.

She forced her hood down.

As soon as their eyes met, the vision hit Veronica like a truck.

 

She could see him, the boy, the real him, his cheekbones sharp and high, jaw carved from marble, an inhuman god amongst mortals, his hair truly of bright, neverending flame, a sword of pure white light by his side, cloaked in armor that shone like the sun.  The absolute goodness, pureness of heart that flowed from him like a waterfall.  It took her breath away.

He was the most radiant thing she’d ever seen.  Veronica couldn’t breathe at the sight of the beauty, his beauty, that both terrified and consumed her, in the same way the cosmos and the concept of God consumed mortals.

 

Somehow, she managed to walk steadily towards him, as further images flashed through her mind.  Veronica had always been talented with prophecy, but she could see him with a clarity Veronica had never seen before, a true Fae, cleaving those who would stain the Earth with blackness and perversion in half with that sword of light that burned her eyes, as if she’d looked directly into the sun.

 A man she assumed was Pop himself intercepted her before she made it to his booth, and the vision passed.  Veronica was almost saddened at its disappearance, but shook herself back together.   “I called in an order, for Lodge?”  Mercifully, her voice stayed level and confident.

“Two burgers, yeah, almost ready.  You’ll have to wait though.”  The man walked away from her towards the back of the counter, and Veronica quickly switched her attention to the beautiful, pure boy with flaming hair in the booth beside her.

A girl sat with him, across the table, blonde hair, blue eyes, a faint whiff of wolf coming off of her, but Veronica only had eyes for him.  “Hi,”  she interjected quickly.  “How are the onion rings here?”

The boy hadn’t taken his eyes from her face, something like wonder and amazement flickering in his eyes.  “So good.”

“Can we get some onion rings too, please?”  Veronica called back towards Pops.  “Thank you.”  She locked eyes with the boy once more.  “My mom and I just moved here, so…”

He eagerly accepted the conversation she’d made.  “From where?”

“New York.”

“Wow.”  Veronica quickly grasped at the first thing that came into her mind, almost desperate to keep the conversation going.  “So, do you guys go to Riverdale?”

He smiled at her.  “Yeah, we’re sophomores-”

“We do.  Both of us.  Together.”  The blonde girl swiftly interrupted, moving towards the boy protectively.  Laying a claim on him.  Veronica just smirked at her, mouth as sharp as the blade of a knife.

“Me too.  I’m filled with dread.”  She rolled her eyes for dramatic effect, and was rewarded by the huff of laughter from the red-headed boy.  “Are you familiar with the works of Truman Capote?”

He nodded, a happy grin still on present on his face, changing the razor sharp angles of his cheekbones to something that filled Veronica with an unexplained warmth, curling up in her chest.  “I’m ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s’, but this place is strictly ‘In Cold Blood’.”

He laughed again, and the warmth grew inside of her.  The other girl ignored her.

“Veronica Lodge.”

He quickly stuck a hand out.  “Archie.  Archie Andrews.”  When she took it, they both felt the electricity, the power that flowed between them, dangerous but not unkind.  His smile grew.

Archie quickly introduced the girl that sat across from him, as if suddenly remembering she was there.  “Uh, this is Betty Cooper.”

Betty nodded, and Veronica was struck with a memory of something her mother had mentioned a few days earlier.  “Wait, are you…”

“Supposed to give you your tour tomorrow?  Yes.”  Her smile was good natured as Betty finished her sentence.  She too, was beautiful, and just as good as Archie, Veronica could feel it.  “I’m your peer mentor.”  Betty bashfully looked down, the neon of Pop’s and the blush on her cheeks flatteringly painting her a blend of radiant pastel.

Archie, the Fae boy, eagerly leaned forward, a hand gesturing to the empty spot in the booth next to him.  “I mean, do you want to join us?”  The eagerness in his eyes almost made Veronica say yes.  “Hey, maybe we can un-fill you with dread.  And, maybe show you around town or something?”

She was never a particularly warm, or kind, or friendly person, but something about him made her want to be.  “My mom’s waiting for me…”

Archie looked like he’d half expected rejection, good natured acceptance yet still crestfallen about her declining his invitation.

“But, to be continued.”  He got the message; that invitation wasn’t being declined, but instead, rain checked.  Veronica nodded to them both in farewell, and reluctantly pulled herself away from them, and towards the bag of fast food waiting for her on the metal-banded counter top. 

* * *

 

Archie was still stunned by the girl when she’d walked away; his palm still tingling from the connection that had flowed between them for those few seconds when they’d touched hands.

“Wow, right?”  He said to Betty after Veronica left.  “So, what were you saying?”

There was something peculiarly sorrowful on Betty’s face, but he assumed if it was important, she’d tell him.

“Nothing.”  Her smile looked almost like a grimace for a moment, but it was gone as fast as it had came, and Archie even doubted he’d seen it in the first place.


End file.
